Saturday was a very car-oriented day, which is funny for someone who tries to keep his car use to a minimum. But my own ratbox of a car, an ’86 Honda Civic with 176,000 miles and a weird smell, is facing repairs that are probably worth more than the car. It’s at this point that I start thinking about buying a new car. And, though money is always tight, I’m not just thinking about a new-to-me car, I’m thinking about a new-new car.
So Gwen, who is considering replacing her Honda as well (though not with as much urgency), and I went car-shopping yesterday, an errand made more convenient because our short-lists are identical. There are financing deals in the air, so it’s probably a good time to consider buying a new car.
We started at a very fancy luxury-car dealer in my neighborhood–it has Ferraris in the showroom. Obviously that’s not what I’m interested in: they’ve got a mini on the lot too. While we were looking at it, people in at least three other cars pulled over to check it out–some had obviously caught it out of the corner of their eyes, but one couple had made the trip specifically for mini-viewing. Nobody was looking at any Ferraris. The car is really cute, feels really well made and well designed. The back seats are laughable, but I guess that’s to be expected.
The problem is that minis are not officially being sold in Texas yet–this dealership bought the car retail (in Little Rock, I think), and trailered it back to Austin. They’re charging a hefty premium too–I think at least $6,000 above sticker, and if you ever needed warranty work, well, you’d have to go to Little Rock.
Next stop, VW. The Jetta Wagon was already first on my short-list of desired cars. A test-drive did nothing to change that. I drove a stick with a 1.8-l turbo engine, and was surprised at how smooth, quiet, and fast the car is. The car just seems really well put-together, good attention to detail. A telling example: the key is built into the remote-control fob. It’s on a sprung hinge, so it folds away to put it in your pocket. You press a little button on the fob and the key flips open like a switchblade. Slick. The whole car is like that.
Third stop, Mazda. We were both looking at the ProtegĂ©5, a fun-looking little wagon. The car was an ergonomic no-go for Gwen, who is short enough that when she’s driving, the relative positions of the seat, steering wheel, and stick make it so that she practically needs to reach behind herself to shift. I had no such problem with the car, but it was a letdown after driving the Jetta–it’s slower, louder, less refined, with less cargo space, poorer warranty, etc. Yes, it is a little cheaper, but the price difference isn’t enough to make up for its relative shortcomings. If I had driven the ProtegĂ©5 (yes, they really write it like that–the salesman abbreviated it to Pro5) first, I would have thought it was a nice enough car. Bad luck for Mazda I didn’t.
Then we went back to Gwen’s place, where I helped her wash and wax her car. It seemed so sad compared to the shiny, zippy cars we’d just been looking at. And don’t even get me started on my car.